No Music Left Behind
by trumpet echoes
Summary: If you're reading this page, odds are you love marching band. So what if someone decided to take it all away? I think you know what you would do. Rated T just to be safe.


-1**No Music Left Behind**

_"Oh no… here comes my solo!" he thought as he marched with the Blue Devils, one of the top marching bands in the world. Looking out at the 30,000-plus people that packed the front half of Gillette Stadium, it was hard to keep your cool. Especially when all focus was about to be re-directed to you. At you._

_"Well…here it comes… please don't screw up…" he pleaded to himself as he brought his trumpet to his lips…_

_**BZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZZZT!**_

_"No! Why do I sound li-"_

_**BZZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!**_

David Cambell, a kind-of-skinny, sort-of-tall, not-bad-looking boy of seventeen awoke with a start to the sound of his furiously buzzing alarm clock. "Hey, this doesn't feel like my uniform…" he muttered as he felt the old T-shirt and Dollar Store brand sleep pants that served as his pajamas. _I can still move,_ was an afterthought Then 30,000 people, Astroturf, and blinding white lights were replaced by poster-covered walls, ugly sheets, and the dim glow from his bedroom window. "A dream. The fourth marching-band-related dream I've had this week, in fact," he said to his empty room. "Whew, I thought my tone had gone down the toilet…" he froze halfway getting out of bed. "…I really need to get a life."

"So, do you have band practice today?" David's mother called from the kitchen.

"Ea. Ih fom foh oo hiscs." he called back without bothering to remove the toothbrush from his mouth.

His mother uttered a sigh of frustration. "That makes four practices a week! Don't you think two or three is enough?"

"E ust ont oo…" he spit. "We just want to be ready for our first competition. There are bands out there who practice from four to eight six days a week. And _they're _the ones who will be getting 90's come finals night."

"Yea, and they're also the nerdy ones with nothing better to do. Those kids -I hate to say it- need to get a life."

David said nothing, but almost burst out laughing.

"Well if you want to drive, I suggest you hurry up. You've got to drop me off at work and you know I can't be late."

"Yeah," David said for the ump-teenth time. "I know."

He dropped his mom off at work and made it to school fifteen minutes before the bell rang. So as not to mess with tradition, he sat down at the same table he'd sat at for the better part of three years (the "band" table, as it was known) in the same chair next to the same people. These people, a short, slightly chubby -but not exactly fat- boy of sixteen (and a half) years with a pleasant face, and a taller, slender girl of David's age who was quite pleasing to the eye, had been his friends and fellow band mates since as far back as he cared to remember. The boy, Daniel, was second chair trumpet (second to David, in fact), and the girl, Zoe, was a snare drummer who was to audition for lead snare and drumline captain tomorrow.

"How are we doing this fine day my companions?" David said with an English accent that was totally spontaneous.

"Quite well my old chap, but I do say I'm in the mood for a scone before we trot off to Wimbledon." Daniel said without missing a beat.

"O-kay, what ever happened to 'hi'?" Zoe asked with a grin.

"'Hi' is so yesterday, Zoe. Stop living in the '90s." teased Daniel.

"…Okay I'm leaving."

"Kidding!" Daniel said, knowing full well that Zoe wouldn't leave the table. "So, changing the subject, have you practiced your music for the auditions?"

Zoe cringed. "Arrg! You just had to remind me of that! I'm sweating bullets just thinking about it!"

"You'll do fine, didn't John say you'd be section leader when he graduated?" said David. "Besides, you, me, and everyone else in the universe knows that you're the best snare drummer we got. By a long shot."

Zoe tried valiantly to hold back a blush, and succeeded in only making her blush smaller. "Thanks, but I freak out when I go into an audition room. My hands, like, freeze up, I forget all my rudimentary crap, and I just, ah! I can't stand it!"

David and Daniel flashed a look at each other that said that they knew something that Zoe didn't. And they did. David was Band Captain (a position that is almost always been held by the first chair trumpet player in their school's history) and the band director had told him that the audition music she had given the drummers was just a sort of diversion. The real audition was going to be how the drummers acted during the practice that day, both on and off the field.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." said Daniel. Naturally after Ms. Hayter (the band director) told him not to tell anyone, he immediately told Daniel.

"You know something that I don't."

"We just know that there is no possible way that you will not make section leader. You're just too talented" said David before he thought about it.

This time Zoe didn't stand a chance against holding back her blush. Upon seeing this, neither did David. Thankfully the bell rang before the moment could get any more awkward.

"Um, see you guys in band." she said nervously and hurried around the corner while trying to hide her smile.

As soon as Zoe was without question out of hearing distance, Daniel said forcefully : "Just ask her out already! God, I'm getting impatient with you!"

"We're just friends. What makes you think I like her, anyway?"

"Trumpet ESP. You should know better by now." said Daniel, referring to the almost psychic way trumpet players could tell what other trumpet players were thinking. When you were in the same section with the same people for so many years, you could read each other like a book.

"…I hate that power. You're right, but what if she says no? It'll be _really _uncomfortable in the mornings. One of us might even have to move… do you want to be responsible for the bringing of the apocalypse by breaking up the table?"

"She won't say no. You know she won't. And you two would make a really good couple."

"…I'll think about it. Now drop the subject before I give you a lap."

"Finally. Well, see you in band."

"See ya."

And they went their separate ways, Daniel to Algebra II with Zoe -with whom he will undoubtedly have a similar conversation- and David to the first of three periods that he must endure before band class.

His first period was Careers. He wanted to be a professional musician or a band director when he grew up, and planned to get a Master's Degree in both Music Performance and Music Education.

His second class was Pre-Calculus, a class that he excelled in thanks in big part to reading music. (Don't believe it? Research it. You'll find that most students' math scores go up after joining band or choir… or learning to read music.)

His third period was English 12. His short story -which doubled as his final- was about none other than… you guessed it, band.

An then came fourth period, band. David joined band in 6th grade simply because it was on his schedule. His family couldn't afford to get him an instrument for the first 5 months of the school year, so David would sometimes have to read while all the other students played their instruments. He would listen to them and think, _Is this what all the fuss is about? They sound horrible! Maybe I should quit. I don't even have an instrument. _

But his mother wouldn't let him. She gave him sixty-two dollars one day and told him, "David, give this money to Mrs. Hayter, and ask her to order her you a trumpet from that… that guy. I forget what his name was."

"Okay." he said. David had always been a shy boy. He hated having to walk up to new people -especially adults- and ask something of them. That day, at the beginning of band class, this scared little kid was forced to do just that. But as David approached Mrs. Hayter, an envelope containing $62 in hand, she turned around and faced him.

"David! I have your trumpet, I need you to bring me sixty-two dollars tomorrow."

"Um…y-yea! I got it… I mean I was going to ask you if… you know, you could order it for me… well, here!"

She took the money with not without a bit of surprise, then turned around and handed David a black, pebbly case with "Bach" on top.

It may sound cliché to call it destiny, but it works great for a personal resume… and, of course, for short stories.

Upon seeing the slightly dull, sparsely dented piece of golden metal before him as he opened up the case, his face lit up, and his new life as a band nerd began.

David picked up on it quick, and within a month he was one of the leaders of his 6th grade band. After finally getting some of the easy rudimentary things out of the way and getting their first piece of music, David was hooked. Beginning bands aren't the most…ear-pleasing things to listen to, but he nonetheless loved getting to play with them. His seventh grade year, Mrs. Hayter asked him along with ten other middle schoolers to join the high school marching band. He loved it right away. The band that year received last place at every contest they went to… but not by much. For a group consisting of eleven middle school students and seven high school students competing against bands with thirty people, _all _of them in high school, it wasn't something to be ashamed of. He didn't quit, nor did any of the other members -two of which were Daniel and Zoe. In fact it only inspired them to work harder. With David, Zoe, Daniel, and every other member working their butts off for the next five years, the Clark County High School Marching Band went from 18 people, placing last at every contest, to fifty members that battled their way into the state semi-finals for the first time in the school's history last year.

And David loved every second of it. Just getting to perform a show in front of hundreds of people with forty-nine other talented musicians, and then have that crowd cheer for you and your band, and all the hours of work you put into that show for the past couple of months, is more reward than any trophy can represent.

Unfortunately, the school board had a different view.

Once again, David made it to fourth period. Once again, he went strait to his seat and got out his trumpet, even though technically this was 'break', and fourth period didn't start for another fifteen minutes. And once again, he was soon joined by Daniel, who sat beside him, and Zoe, whose drum was positioned behind him. How convenient.

Mrs. Hayter was running late (again), so the students in the band room were free to talk amongst themselves, a freedom which they took full advantage of. "So, Zoe, have you got that music down for auditions?" said Daniel, knowing full well that it didn't matter.

"Yes I do. It's easy. But I believe I have already said that it's not the audition _piece, _it's the audition _room,_ that I have nightmares about every night!"

David playfully scoffed. "Wimp."

"Oh, shut up, your only competition was Daniel and a couple of freshman for 1st chair-"

"Hey!"

"-But I have to go up against-"

"-People who can barely read freshman-level music, and they're facing the best drummer in the district." said David, impatiently.

"…Okay. Thanks."

"…Plus we can always put a hit out on your competition. I got contacts in the Mafia."

"Very funny. Unless you really do, then it may be something to think about."

They all had a small laugh, and then went about their conversation, which consisted of which bands received distinguished rating last Saturday, a few dirty jokes, and reassuring Daniel that he really wasn't a bad trumpet player for a Junior.

Mrs. Hayter finally walked through the door -only 10 minutes late, this time- with an expression on her face that was either sadness, frustration, anger, or disbelief…or all of the above.

"Yikes, what's wrong with her?" asked Zoe.

"I bet she's pregnant." whispered Daniel.

"You say that every time she comes in like that." said David. "Besides, I really couldn't picture Mrs. Hayter with a-"

"Ew!"

"Ew!"

"-with a kid of her own! Grow up!"

They all suppressed their giggles to a minimum while Mrs. Hayter stepped onto the 2X2 block of wood that served as a podium.

"Hey, guys," Mrs. Hayter always referred to her band students as if they were her friends instead of her pupils. Maybe because they _were _more like friends to her. "Do you remember how I told you that the school was thinking about cutting band from the school curriculum?"

"Um… yea…" said the band. David and the rest of them had thought that when she had told them this earlier on in the season, it was an empty threat so they wouldn't goof off during practice. But this didn't sound like a threat… especially not an empty one.

"…Well they did."

_No. No. They didn't. They **couldn't.** Not after all we did for the past five years. Not after that. _If David had ever wished to wake up during a dream, it was now.

"When? Why!" shouted Zoe angrily.

"Today. Right now, in fact. Because the principal said the school didn't have the money." Mrs. Hayter spoke the way she did when one of the band members missed a practice and gave a bad excuse.

"But don't they have to, like, give you a two weeks notice, or something? They can't just drop band without giving us a say in it!" pleaded Daniel.

"They gave me my two weeks notice today. As for band itself… they told me there wasn't any real reason keeping it for another two weeks so… you'll be getting your new schedules tomorrow. I'm sorry…" Mrs. Hayter said this last bit with a faint quiver in her voice. Mrs. Hayter, whom David thought could make an army drill sergeant tremble with fear, was now on the verge of tears. "I'm going to go talk to the board right now. I doubt I'll change their minds, but I'll try. Maybe I can at least get a going away party or something…"

The band was silent. When she received no response, Mrs. Hayter stepped off the podium and walked out the door in the band room that led outside, got in her car, and drove off. She could probably get in trouble leaving her class unattended, but what were they going to do… fire her?

"I'm going to the office. Everybody else stay here." said David suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Are you going to talk to them about the band?" said Zoe with a small amount of hope in her voice. Not a lot, but some. "If you are, I'm going with you."

"Me too" Daniel chimed in.

"I'm going too."

"Me too!"

It seemed the entire band would support David. But if -or more likely, when- he got in trouble, he wanted to make sure that he didn't bring anyone else with him.

"I said stay here."

Zoe didn't seem to hear him. "You're not going al-"

"I said stay here!" he said with more force than he intended, and the entire band stopped in their tracks. "This is still a band, and I'm still the band captain! When I tell you to stay, you stay!"

David regretted this even before it was done coming out of his mouth. Of course he was mad -not a sole in this room wasn't- but he was still supposed to be mature enough to control his temper. That's why he was band captain.

Instead of being hurt like he expected, Zoe simply smiled.

"You're right. We're still a band. No matter what some fat old bald people in Wal-Mart suits say. And you're still the leader."

The band seemed to think about this for a second, and, one by one, they stepped back. He hadn't expected _that,_ but he would take it. If fact it sort of encouraged him. In their eyes, like in his, they were still a band. In their eyes, like in his, it wasn't some fat old bald person's place to break up the band. And in their eyes, like in his, they weren't going to. Not if the band had something to say about it.

David couldn't help but think of the way a cowboy walks into a bar filled with gun-toting bad guys as he swung open the band room's double doors and headed toward the office. _So I'm a little bit immature. Big deal._ He thought.

He also couldn't help feeling a little uneasy walking down the empty halls of Clark County High School. He'd never skipped class before… heck, he'd never chewed gum in class. _No big deal, I'm not skipping class, _he thought. _Because as of ten minutes ago, I don't have a fourth period to skip._

The band room was quite a ways from the front office. And walking always helped David think. He thought about the first time he picked up his trumpet. How happy he felt. He thought about how Daniel and Zoe had come over his house that day and they all played with their new instruments, how delightfully bad they sounded, and how they had laughed and said that it would sound good eventually. He thought about his first competition, and how he felt playing in front of all those people, how he felt so alive. He remembered how he wanted to work so hard after they got last place, and how it paid off. He thought about all the members of his band, not just Daniel and Zoe. How they all loved it, how they were willing to work for it, how they were willing to put up with people driving by and yelling "_Fags!_" when they were practicing, just because they thought the performance was worth it. They were truly some of the best people he had ever known. And he wasn't going to let this happen to them.

He stormed into the office with that last thought in his head.

"Excuse me? Can I help you?" said a bewildered office clerk.

"Mrs. Hayter told us that the school is dropping band. I'm here to find out why."

"Well you're not going to find out like this." snapped the clerk. _Just another stupid kid who wants to be a rebel._ thought the clerk.

_Easy, David, _he thought. _They're not going to take you seriously if you act like just another delinquent looking for an excuse to fight. _"You're right. Please get me the principal. Ma'am."

The clerk seemed to think about this for a moment. Then she sighed. "Fine. Mr. Carrington! Please come in here!"

The door to the Principal's office open and out stepped a balding, plump man in a cheap suit. David wondered absently if Mr. Carrington had purchased his suit from Wal-Mart. "Yes, what is it?"

"We have a student who would like to have a talk with you."

He directed his attention to the sandy-blonde headed young man in front of him. "What seems to be the problem?" asked the principal. Past experience has taught him that when someone wants to have a talk with you -not speak, but talk-, there is always a problem. Then he noticed the marching band logo on the breast pocket of the boy's letterman's jacket and decided he did not wish to talk to this particular band student. Or rather, ex-band student.

David hadn't realized that he had kept his letterman's jacket on until that moment. "I think you can probably guess from looking at me." he said.

"Ugh… I knew this was going to happen eventually… look, kid, we just didn't have the money." said Mr. Carrington, and made as if to walk back into his office and end the conversation.

"We had the money last year. And it doesn't seem like the school has spent any money trying to fix up the facilities around here."

Mr. Carrington looked at David the way you might look at a man who just asked you what color the sky was. "Haven't you noticed the new gym floor? Or the new scoreboard? Or the new football uniforms?"

"Yes, sir, I have. But I assumed that they were a donation from the bank, or some other business. I mean, no self respecting principal would buy that stuff when he know the school needs new textbooks, new computers, a new coat of paint, new lockers, and about a thousand other more important things, right?"

The principal said nothing.

"Back to the subject, why band? Why not the football team? Or the basketball team? Or the baseball team? Or the cheerleaders? _Why the band!_"

"Hey, it wouldn't be fair to them either! Maybe you should think about other people before you start making accusations!" retorted the principal.

"There are fifty people in the band! That's more than any of those groups! Wouldn't it be smarter to do away with the activity that would affect the smallest amount of people?"

"Yes, but those groups bring in more money than the band does."

"And that's what more important than anything, isn't it? That's what it comes down to. Money. That's more important than the happiness of your students, or how much they learn, or-"

"That money goes into the school and helps everybody! The band was just drawing money from the rest of my students, and there are more important things I need to buy that help everybody. Help them _learn._" Mr. Carrington said with a sense of finality.

"And I'm sure everyone is learning a lot from that new gym floor. Unless that new scoreboard doubles as a calculator, I doubt you're helping anyone but the sports teams."

"What makes you think that the band is more important than the sport teams? They work harder than you people, so they deserve more money."

David had heard this before. Ignorance was the main reason people look down on the band, in David's opinion. " I was on the basketball team, and I played football and baseball before I joined band. We work just as hard as they do, and if you'd ever taken the time to watch us practice, you'd know that. And we actually _learn _things in band. If you'd also taken the time to check the history of your students, you'd find that when a student joins and stays in band, their grades go up and their delinquency rate goes down. I'm not saying anything bad about the athletes, but when a football player's grade suddenly goes from an F to a C-, it's because a teacher doesn't want them to miss the game on Friday."

"Now you're just being prejudice against the football team. Just a mad little boy who wants to through a fit."

"Because I'm sick of my organization doing all the work that we do and getting none of the recognition! And now _this!_ Let me tell you something! It's going to take a lot more than some ah…butt-hole in a suit to stop band from being a part of this school!"

And with that David stormed out of the office before he could say anything else that might get him expelled. Maybe even arrested.

Sheldon Carrington stood in front of the door looking dumbfounded. This wasn't the first time a student had done something like this -shouted at him out of fury- but he couldn't help but think that this might be the first time the student actually had legitimate reason for doing so. Maybe he had made a bad decision… but he would not go back on it. If the student body ever found out that he was swayed on a decision just because a student got up in face and yelled at him, there would be a shouting match every time he punished someone. But what he did to the band now seemed wrong… the principal of Clark County High School now found himself between a rock and a hard place. He needed to show the band that he wasn't going to give… and he had a good idea as to how.

As Sheldon Carrington pondered how he could smash the rock and get as far away from the hard place as possible, David was busy trying to contain the thoughts inside his head so they wouldn't fly out of his ears and break something as he made the seemingly-longer-than-usual walk back to (is it even called the band room anymore?) his friends.

(_Look, kid, we just don't have the money.) _

Carrington's words (he no longer deserved the title of "principal" in David's opinion) were still ringing inside his head. _Bull crap, _thought David. _We're in debt to the equipment companies every year. We do fund-raisers -God, how I hate selling fruit- to make up for those. If there is -was, David, was- some secret flow of cash from the board to the band, I'm not seeing it. _

David needn't have bothered telling the band what had happened when he finally made it back. Maybe it was the band equivalent of trumpet ESP, maybe it was the way he walked into the band room, but David suspected that everyone knew what was going to happen before he had even left. But, just to be sure:

"So, how'd it go?" asked Zoe.

"Oh, you know, they didn't have the money, the sports teams are more important, and blah-blah-blah." he replied. No one really seemed surprised.

"So… what do we do now?" asked a saxophone player. "Not give up, I hope."

"Well as Zoe said before, we're still a band. We might not be a _school _band anymore, but we're still a band. And as Zoe also mentioned, we're not going to let some fat old bald people in Wal-Mart suits tell us that we're through." said David. Zoe smiled.

"So? What do we do?" a different band member -a guard member- repeated.

"Well, it may be childish, downright stupid, in fact, but I'm skipping whatever fourth period they assign me and coming here. _Band_ is my fourth period. And I'm not going to just sit in here and drink coffee, I'm going to practice my trumpet. And if there are a couple of band people in there with me, I'd be happy to practice our show with them."

"You know there will be." said Daniel.

David looked at the forty-nine other people in front of him. They all silently nodded their agreement, and he couldn't help but feel proud to lead such a fine group of his peers.

"Well alright then. Our low-budget, picket-sign-less, road-block-less protest is arranged." he said finally.

As if to agree to this, the bell rang as soon as he was finished. The band started to gather their things. "I don't have a ride home… I told mom we'd be having band practice today after school" he heard one of them say.

"Hey! Were do you think you guys are going?" he shouted at the students making their way to the door.

"Home. It seems we won't be having band practice for a while." said one of them bitterly.

"Says who? We're not going to be ready for the Ashland Competition if we don't practice."

They stopped -for the second time today- in their tracks. And -also for the second time today- they smiled after they stopped.

"And somebody call Mrs. Hayter. She's late again."

David awoke the next morning (this time he dreamed that his band won the state championship. The newly-reinstated Clark County marching Cardinals, to be exact.) and immediately started planning out the rest of the day in his head. He removed the toothbrush from his mouth when his mother asked him if they were having band practice to say yes. Again.

When he got to school that morning -this time with twenty minutes to spare- he sat down with his friends in the same spot he sat yesterday. And he still called it "The Band Table". So did everyone else.

Not long into David, Daniel, and Zoe's discussion on what would really happen if Mrs. Hayter had a kid, the intercom beeped it's annoying beep and told all the former-

(_Former my butt)_

-band students to report to the front of the cafeteria to receive their new schedules.

They did. His schedule had his first three periods exactly the same as they were. His fourth period, however, said "Humanities". But it was a mistake, his fourth period was band. And it was just a stupid little piece of paper, what did it know?

He tossed the stupid little piece of paper into the garbage as he walked back to the band table, and continued arguing that Mrs. Hatyer's kid would turn out to be the next Hitler with Daniel and Zoe, who had both also seemed to have misplaced their papers.

Daniel scolded David once again when he put off asking out Zoe, and then he was off to first period.

Then second.

Then third.

Then came break, conveniently just before fourth period. Before band. He walked across the gym floor (the brand new gym floor) toward the band room, half-expecting to see no one but Zoe and Daniel when he rounded the corner. He smiled when the aforementioned passionate group of 49 instrument-carrying people. blocked his way to the band room door. However, his smile soon faded when he saw the looks on their faces.

"What's wrong? Let's go in. Is it locked or something? Cause I'm sure one of the aids would be happy to-"

"David… you might want to take a look inside." said Zoe apologetically.

David, knowing whatever he was about to see couldn't be good, peered into the small window in the door.

Inside were twenty-five-or-so desks. Amidst them was a teacher, who was busy putting a worksheet on each one. And in the corner room -the instrument room, it was- he saw all the stands, uniforms, and school instruments, looking like forgotten toys in an seldom-visited attic.

"Um… excuse me. I, um… I need to get to class." said a small (and possibly frightened) student.

"Oh… sorry. Go right ahead." said Daniel. Then he looked at David. _They're having a class in there. _Daniel told David via trumpet ESP. _We can't do that to them. Interrupt them, I mean. It wouldn't be right. _

_Yeah. I know. _he thought back.

The mob of band kids soon parted to allow the rest of the class in after the bell rung. David wondered briefly how a class could be moved so fast, and if Mr. Carrington… and if Carrington had done it just to show the band that his decision was final.

"Now what?" pleaded Zoe.

"Now, we practice." said David simply.

"In case you haven't noticed, there's a class in there!" said Daniel, wondering if their trumpet ESP had been cancelled along with band.

"So? We practice outside most of the time anyway during marching season. And I'll run practice if Mrs. Hayter is late again." he replied, favoring them all with a winning smile.

After a moment, Zoe laughed. "You're something else, David. It's good to have you as band captain." And then she hugged him. It may have been abrupt, but David didn't mind.

"Yea, it is." said another band member. "But, I hope you'll just take our word for it." No one laughed, but they all smiled warmly.

"Thanks," he said after he and Zoe broke the hug. "That means a lot coming from you guys. And at the risk of making this moment even cornier that it already is, it's an honor to be your band captain."

"You're right. That was corny." said Daniel, smiling.

"Well, if family hour's over, how about we get the percussion equipment and any other instruments we've left in there and get to work. I'll talk to the teacher. You're not to say anything to anyone unless the teacher directly speaks to you, then I expect you to calmly and respectfully tell her what we will be doing." And with that they headed in to the band room.

"May I help you?" asked the confused teacher when she saw fifty students coming into her abnormally large and adapted classroom.

"We're the band ma'am. Sorry to disturb your class, but we just need to get some things out of the instrument room, then we'll go outside to practice and leave you alone." said David pleasantly.

"Really?" the teacher responded, seeming to understand -and even support- what this group of young men and women were trying to do. "I was told by Mr. Carrington that the school has dropped band, and that I should take the old band room."

"Well you were told wrong. We're still a band, and we're still going to practice no matter what -you'll have to excuse me- no matter what the school says. And we've always had band fourth period. We intend to continue this."

"Really. Well, is Mrs. Hayter here? I sorry, but I can't let fifty students run amok outside without a teacher."

"Right here." said Mrs. Hayter, right on cue, as she walked through the door. David had called Mrs. Hayter last night and told her the days events. She told him almost he exact same story he told the band when she tried to talk to the board… and she was happy to join them in there version of a protest. "Sorry I'm late again."

David smiled. But not for long. As he looked out among the bewildered students in the (_band room_) classroom, he noticed two football players -the quarterback and the star wide receiver, in fact-, the point guard of the basketball team along with a couple of other basketball players, the head cheerleader, and the pitcher of the baseball team. It was too much to be a coincidence. Now David was almost sure that Carrington had done this out of spite. Then one of the football players leaned over to the point guard. "They dropped band? Why? That doesn't seem right…" David heard him say.

"No, it doesn't." answered the point guard. Then the rest of the class started whispering amongst themselves, most talking about the issue at hand: Was it right to cancel band? The majority of the class -not just including, but especially the football players, the basketball players, the head cheerleader, and the pitcher- seemed to think it wasn't fair. David was surprised. Apparently the rest of the school didn't see eye to eye with the principal, either. He started smiling again.

"Well then, I guess I can't stop you," said the teacher, also smiling. "Go right ahead."

"Thank you, Ma'am." said Mrs. Hayter. Then the band quickly (and for the most part, quietly) got the drums and tubas out of the instrument room and headed outside.

"Are they protesting?" asked the head cheerleader when the band had closed the door.

"Yes. I believe they are." answered the teacher.

"…I think we should help them."

David chalked it up to his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard somebody inside say something about helping the band as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Heat wasn't the only thing making his sweat drip… he knew they were going to get in trouble for being out here. Mrs. Hayter might even be arrested. But he knew that she knew the risk she was taking. Heck, they were all taking a pretty big risk.

Mrs. Hayter started warming them up (playing a few scales and easy exercises) as they all waited for their outside eyes to kick in. David couldn't help but wonder what any of the staff who know that the band should be no more -Carrington, in particular- as they finished. Despite his growing dread of what was about to happen, he hadn't the slightest intention of going inside. He could only hope everyone else felt the same.

"Alright, everyone. Opening set." called out the band director who wasn't really supposed to be a band director anymore. Everyone started jogging (without having to be told to! Hell may have very well frozen over!) to the first formation of the show, each person determined to get something done this practice, both on and off the field.

Then they started playing. Clark County High school, in it's twenty-one years of competition, never once received a placement higher than fourth place overall in a contest. Today, they would have given the national champions a vigorous sprint for their money. David believed that he had never heard a better sound in his life, and never would… perhaps, until he heard the words "Band is now a part of this school again" from a defeated Sheldon Carrington.

Not everyone found this sound to be as heavenly as David. The aforementioned Sheldon Carrington, was one of these few (very few) people. He cursed to himself as he put down his coffee -black, no cream please- and picked up the telephone in his office and dialed a teacher he knew to be upstairs with a smashing view of the marching band practice field.

"Hello?" said that teacher as she put down her own coffee.

"Mrs. Napier?"

"Yes, Mr. Carrington."

"Hello, how are you doing?"

"Fine Mr. Carrington, just grading some papers. I hope you didn't call me during my planning period to ask how I am doing."

"No, Mrs. Napier, I called to ask you to look out your window, please. The one that looks over the parking lot."

"Alright. Please hold." said the teacher. She put down the phone and headed over to her window, already hearing what the principal had wanted her to see. "The marching band is on the other side of the parking lot. You know, on the field they use for practice. Is that what you needed too know?"

"They are, are they?" said Mr. Carrington, sounding pleased and furious at the same time. "Yes, ma'am, that is what I needed too know."

"They sound very good today."

"No, Mrs. Napier, they sound like trouble. Good bye, Mrs. Napier."

He hung up the phone before she could reply. Then, after a moment, he called a different number.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I'd like to report a disturbance on the grounds of Clark County High School."

"Domestic or-"

"Noise, a lot of noise. And it's disrupting my students."

"May I ask who the disturbance is being caused by?"

"A group of delinquents. They've gotten a hold of some old instruments and are playing them as loud as they can at the builing. They're angry that I dropped one of the minor programs of the school and they're trying to cause as much trouble as they can."

"Thank you, sir, we'll send someone over right away."

Mrs. Hayter looked at her band in amazement as they finished the run-through. "They should cancel band before every practice. That was the best I've ever heard you sound."

The band said nothing… they were still at attention. They were not allowed to move until someone of authority said "At ease."

"…Why can't it be this way all the time?" she asked, trying to sound angry but doing a poor job. "At ease."

The band smiled back at their band director, at the drum major, then at each other.

David looked at Zoe, who had forgotten (or maybe just didn't care anymore) about try-outs, about making first chair, about being a captain. All that mattered to her is that the band is around long enough to give that performance in front of an audience.

He grinned broadly at her -she saw him and shyly grinned back- then turned to Daniel. Daniel wasn't smiling in the least. He was looking at something in the direction of the school. David followed his gaze, grin fading as he did so, and finally saw.

Carrington was strolling, angrily but confidently, toward where they stood. The rest of the band soon noticed what the two trumpet players were looking at. And, in the distance, sirens could be heard. Faintly, but undoubtedly, sirens could be heard.

"What in the world are you looking at?" barked Mrs. Hayter, suddenly.

The band looked at her in disbelief. "Don't you here the-"

"Yes, I hear them. I also see Mr. Carrington. But we're practicing. Now run it again, and I expect it to sound just like the last time."

The band, albeit with some fear, jogged back to their first set with the eagerness and determination they had before. And they started playing, just as the had before. And it sounded great… just as it had before.

Of course, sound isn't the only factor of a marching band. They also march, go figure. When an individual is marching during a performance, they are expected to remain professional and disciplined. They are not to let anything or anyone distract them. If there is an object -or person, for that matter- in the path of a performer, they don't go around it, they go over it, or through it. A fact Sheldon Carrington had not looked into when he stepped on the field during the performance of the band he had supposedly done away with.

"What the _hell _is going on here!" he shouted, the fury now more-than-apparent in his voice.

"We're practicing." said Mrs. Hayter casually, if loudly, over the band.

"I'll have you arrested for trespassing on school property, Mrs. Hayter." said Carrington, dismissing her as a minor problem.

"I have nine days left at this school before I'm officially fired. And I still have a band to run, in case you've somehow missed the group behind you."

The band continued performing, listening to the two adults' conversation but not letting it show in their playing.

"_There is no band! Why can't I get that through any of your thick heads!" _

"If there is no band, what do you call the group of talented young people behind you? Including the young man whose path you've carelessly stepped in the way of."

"What are you-"

David had seen Carrington in his path long before he had reached him. But they were still performing, and if there was one way to show that he wasn't going to let anything stop this band from playing it was not altering his course. David did what he was expected to do when someone stepped in his path, be it a spectator, a judge, or an angry and distracted principal with whom he shared an uncharacteristic loathing. He didn't alter his course.

Carrington, who had not expected someone to run into him, tripped over his own feet when they collided, and fell to the ground. But David had not yet reached his spot. And David's spot was just beyond the grounded Carrington. He kept marching, one foot landing (on beat, of course) on the side of the principal's stomach, another on his left shoulder, and another scraping down the side of his face and landing on his ear. While David couldn't help feeling satisfied and a bit guilty at the same time, neither his marching nor his sound faltered. He continued to his spot, leaving a bewildered and mildly hurt Carrington to watch him march.

Carrington immediately sprung up, sensing an ambush from behind. But all he saw was a couple of amused saxophone players who were continuing to march just as David had. When they didn't stop or move for him either, Carrington scrambled to the sidelines before he could be trampled again.

"If I've said it before, and I don't believe I have, I'll say it again. You're not going to stop these kids. It turns out that you've learned the hard way, but Mr. Cambell did nothing wrong. If fact he's not supposed to move if something is in his way, none of them are. You are at ease, everyone." she called as the band finished it's run-through.

"I'm sorry if you're hurt, Mr. Carrington," David said somewhat apologetically. "But you were in the way."

The principal merely smirked. "No matter. The police will be here soon enough. Now I may add assault to public disturbance."

"Disturbance? I don't recall ever being warned for disturbance for any of our other practices." said Zoe before she could stop herself.

Carrington looked at the young lady sternly. "You weren't skipping class to do something that was no longer approved by this school during any of your other 'practices'."

Had it taken place during a movie, it would have been scorned to no end, but at that exact moment, the football players, basketball players, baseball player, cheerleader, and teacher from the class being held in the 'band room' appeared in the door way, each with their eyes on the band.

"We're here to help you guys." said the cheerleader.

David smiled in spite of himself. "I thought I heard one of you saying that. What took you so long?"

"We had to gather reinforcements, soldier." said the quarterback.

"Wha-"

As if on cue, what seemed to be hundreds of people -students and teachers- started filing out of the room that once was the band room. Each headed out to the field and, doing their best not to get in the way of the band, who had all turned to face their "reinforcements", joined them on the field.

"Oh. Those reinforcements." said David, stunned at such a turnout. "I'm thankful, believe me, but why help us?"

"The band is just as important as the sports teams." said the pitcher. "You put in as many hours of practice as we do. And a whole lot more money" he added as he looked at David's $1500 shiny silver trumpet.

"Is that why you call us 'nerds', 'dorks', or 'fags' every time we walk by?" said Daniel in spite of himself.

"Uh…"

"The point is, we're out here helping you now." added the basketball player quickly.

"Ok. Thanks."

"Alright, now that that's out of the way, let's focus on the matter at hand." said Mrs. Napier. She looked at Mr. Carrington. "Seeing as how, oh, say… all of the student body and staff think that you made a mistake by dropping band, how about you re-instate it? It's far from too late."

Carrington looked out at the mob of adolescents before him. "Most of them came out here to get out of class. I know my students."

"Anyone who does not go inside and stays out here to help the band will be assigned a two-page packet in their respective fourth period's subject." said Mrs. Napier without missing a beat.

It would have looked better on paper if nobody had moved, but two dozen or so people quickly hurried inside. _Oh well, _thought David. _Not as bad as I thought it would be._

"Those students going inside will not be punished. Anyone else think band isn't something worth supporting?" Mrs. Napier added.

No one else moved. Carrington looked at his shoes in frustration.

"Well then," said the teacher who had occupied the band room only minutes ago. "With the exception of a few people who are afraid of a little work, everyone wants band to be a part of this school again."

The sirens now took on a shape as three police cruisers came into view.

"The police will settle this. Now everyone back inside!" shouted Mr. Carrington. Once again, no one moved. Even as a state trooper stepped out of his cruiser and motioned for the other officers to stay put, no one moved.

"I take it this-" he nodded at the massive crowd of close to 500 people. "-is the disturbance you were talking about."

"Yes." Carrington replied listlessly.

"It sort of looks like a protest," the officer stated. "Am I right?"

500 heads nodded.

"Of what, pray tell?"

"The principal," said Mrs. Hayter as she nodded at Carrington. "Cut band from the school curriculum. But the band wasn't going to stop playing just because of that."

"Couldn't you have played after school?" questioned the officer, reasonably.

"I suppose we could have," continued Mrs. Hayter, unruffled. "But we couldn't compete. Or perform during games. Or afford to buy new instruments. It's a school band for a reason."

"And what of this 'disturbance'?" asked the officer calmly.

"We were practicing. We always practice during fourth period. The group you see before you includes the band and the students who came out here to support us when they heard that we were protesting."

"I see. Well, Mr. Carrington, these students are doing nothing wrong."

Carrington looked furious. "They're all skipping class! And those band kids are disrupting my other students!"

"It seems that there are teachers out here with them. Several, in fact, and they all seem to be out here for the same reason the band is. As for the band kids… you can't expect them to get better if they don't practice."

And with that the officer walked back to his cruiser and drove off with the rest of his squad.

Everyone turned to Carrington.

"…If I re-instate the band, everyone will protest every time I do something they don't like. To be honest, that is the main reason the band isn't already part of the curriculum."

"You've done a lot of things we haven't liked, sir." said the quarterback. "But they were all for the good of the school. This, however, is hurting a lot more than it is helping. We can do without a new gym floor, but there are fifty people who can't do without the band." He thought for a moment, then added: "Actually, make that a hundred and fifty. Games just aren't the same without the band."

Carrington sighed after a thousand years of twenty seconds. "Alright. But I better see those packets in the morning."

After everyone had stopped cheering -and it took a while, with 500 people- David caught up with the leaders of the non-band mob. "Last time I checked, the jocks and the nerds didn't get along very well." he told them good-naturedly.

"Don't worry, you guys are still nerds to us." said the cheerleader, grinning.

"Thanks."

"But you're hard-working and dedicated nerds. And for that, we respect you… at least a little bit." chimed in the quarterback.

David rolled his eyes. "I guess that's better than nothing. We really appreciate you guys coming out here."

"You're welcome."

"Well, we still have a million more run-throughs to do before practice is over. And now the cops won't be called on us."

David shook their hands in turn and went back to the band. The Clark County High School marching band.

Mrs. Hayter pulled David aside before they re-started their practice. "We couldn't have done this without you, David. Everyone here owes you their gratitude."

David smiled. "No, after all this, they owe me a first place finish in finals."

The band went on practicing, just as they had every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday before, and the practice went as smoothly as ever. The Clark County High School marching band (later that year to be known as the 2A state marching band champions) was re-instated as of tomorrow, and every band member held an atmosphere of accomplishment. Especially the new drumline captain, after Mrs. Hayter finally told Zoe she had passed with flying colors in an audition she didn't even know she was taking.

Practice ended soon after David told a very flattered Zoe that he had told her so.

"So what are you going to do with that audition music that you've been obsessing over for the past two weeks?" asked Daniel.

"I think I'm going to have a ritual and burn it." she said, laughing.

"Erm… I guess that's one way."

They all looked out at the 47 band members making their way back to the band room (which had been cleared of all desks and now resembled a much cleaner version of the band room it once was).

"We really couldn't have done this without you, David." said Zoe.

"…Thanks."

And she hugged him again. But this time, didn't turn away.

David, after a moment, hugged back. Daniel caught his eye after a moment.

_So help me God, _warned Daniel through their patented trumpet ESP. _If you don't ask her out now I'm going to shove your trumpet up your-_

"So um… Zoe?" asked David, still hugging Zoe.

"Yea?"

"You wanna… um, if you're not busy… you wanna see a movie on Friday?"

"See a movie… like, on a date?"

"Um… yea."

"…I already have plans." she said.

"Oh…" David looked at Daniel and thought/said every curse word he knew at him.

Zoe smiled. "I was kind of hoping _you_ could go with _me_ somewhere. On a date."

Daniel smirked.

"Oh?" said David, cheering inside. "Where to?"

"Well, I thought we could go see the Blue Devils perform."

"…Really?"


End file.
